The Art of Serendipity
by AbsintheThoughts
Summary: A bit of pointless, slightly darkly tinted smut. There’s plot-ish LOL. Mostly, it’s a love story, with Draco being a controlling devious little nympho and Hermione finding herself too securely situated between the proverbially rock and a hard Slytherin


**The Art of Serendipity**

BY: Absinthe_Thoughts

**A/N: ** A bit of pointless, slightly darkly tinted smut. There's plot (ish) LOL. Mostly, it's a love story, with Draco being a controlling devious little nympho and Hermione finding herself too securely situated between the proverbially rock and a hard Slytherin, if you catch my pun.

_**!!Warning!! **_Smut McSmutty Smut-ness. Shield thy young or fragile minds, stray not beyond this text! For below this rambling warning lurks *gasp* sexually orientated material (A.K.A: You! Kiddos! Take a hike!) The rest of you shameless perverts…follow me.

_**Quote of the Day**_: "I like nonsense - it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living. It's a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope... and that enables you to laugh at all of life's realities." –Dr. Sues

**Chapter One**: You're _Other_ Left.

"_Don't go that way, _nobody_ goes that way." –Blue Worm_

"_Oh, thank you," –Sarah _

_Shaking his head, __"__If she'd 'ave kept on goin' down that way, she'd 'ave gone straight to the castle.__"__  
–Blue Worm_

_ -Labyrinth_

If Hermione had simply gone to the left, it all would've ended much differently. The left, a very underappreciated direction, was one worth more than the two seconds of consideration she gave it, as the left would've seen her safely through the end of the hall, and onto the more trying goal of navigating the stairs, and finally, she would've arrived, safe and sound, at the Fat Lady's portrait. If she'd gone left, the more crowded of the options, Professor McGonagall would've been keeping a mindful eye on the multitude of students hurrying to and fro, thereby dissuading any would-be trouble makers from getting any devious ideas, and in short, securing her aforementioned safety. However, Hermione had never feared her peers, and she merely gave the crowded hallway a dissatisfied look before rerouting, dutifully, and with unfelt foreboding, to the right.

The right hallway was far different from the left, it was quieter, exuding a serenity in the mid afternoon sunshine, and it seemed, for a blissful moment to her inquisitive gaze, like a sanctuary from the press and shove of the day-to-day, a pleasant walk through a abandoned corridor seemed far more preferable than fighting the masses. She grinned to herself, foolishly, and allowed herself to bask in the scent of the sunshine pouring through the large glass windows, the press of natural warmth on her skin, and the stale silence that was this stolen moment of peace, her every inhale and exhale suddenly audible. Still, she never heard them coming, they'd charmed their shoes and robes to be utterly silent, exchanging expressions of anticipatory glee with one another, fighting the tell tale eruption of sniggering that would expose them to the unaware prey walking dazedly ahead of them, prey that was completely absorbed in a random mid afternoon day dream.

Normally, Hermione would be on guard, like many of those that had come to finish their last year of schooling after the war's end, she was a tad bit jumpy, overly sensitive to people following her and the like, but the past two months of slipping into her school regimen had left her with a decidedly lax demeanor about such things, this was Hogwarts after all, Death Eaters and their spies seemed blissfully distant in this academic paradise, like a vague nightmare. Harry and Ron had stayed back at the Burrow, and they were usually the ones keeping her jumping at the shadows, so for the first year in a long time, Hermione had made the mistake of letting herself feel _normal_ and _safe_. A mistake that three Slytherin troublemakers were very keen to capitalize on, as one, a slender brunette by the name of Freya, shoved the unsuspecting girl from behind, tripping her up in her robes and sending her and her collection of books thudding and skittering across the stone hall. Freya cackled, brandishing her wand and issuing a quick '_Accio _wand' towards the still disorientated Gryffindor, who at that moment was still struggling to right herself, feeling confused and decidedly ornery at the brutal intrusion.

"Hah! Some _hero_," Freya commented with an eye roll, the two boys with her, one lanky with a curtain of greasy black hair and the other blonde and rather bulky with muscle, sniggered dutifully at her witless quip. Hermione eyed the hostile trio with an errant sigh. She'd almost forgotten about the Slytherin gangs and their petty revelries, staring into the hostile brown-black eyes of her attacker, she felt no fear nor trepidation, as was likely their goal, no, Hermione merely felt _old_. The smug and caustic girl was too young to have battled in the war, too young to know what true division, what true hatred _was_, how it ate at people, how it destroyed you from the inside out, how nothing, no matter _what_, was worth the pain of such a self destructive emotion. She was young, sixteen, seventeen at most, and she thought little beyond the walls of Hogwarts, Hermione was certain. Not to mention she was pretty, and Slytherin, and holding Hermione's wand….now that _did_ pose a problem.

"Are the demerits you're going to receive really _worth_ this?" She enquired wearily, tilting her head at the now sneering girl. Freya's expression hardened into a marble profile of dislike.

"Don't try that smart girl bullshit with me, Miss Priss, everyone might think you're the best thing since sliced cheese, because your Potter's little _slag_, but some of us still have standards," The brunette eyed her nails, sighing, "I really do have better things to use my time for, but _someone_ has to teach you and your fat mouth a lesson, and since no one seems to have an inch of guts when it comes to Hermione Granger "war hero"," she even did the finger quotes on 'war hero', Hermione noted, aghast, "I guess I'll just have to be the one to educate you on your lack of manners."

"Oh wow, prepare that speech, did you?" Hermione stood, smirking as she realized she had a few inches on the Slytherin girl, Freya scowled upward in distaste. "Shame that I've heard better, you didn't even insult my bloodline, really," Hermione gave the trio a flat look of disinterest, "and you completely forgot to mention my hair," she smirked in self depreciating humor, "or my complete lack of fashion sense, or how I'm probably only a part of the trio because I shag Ron or Harry, feel free to interrupt at any time, I'm certain there's more." She had to laugh aloud at the completely baffled look on the girl's face, one that was soon erased by a furious glare from thickly lashed brown-black eyes.

"You think you're so fucking clever," Freya dangled Hermione's wand tantalizingly, "Not fucking clever enough, apparently. I beat you in what, two seconds?" She scoffed, her smirk spreading into something nasty and slightly evil, "Always showing off your supposed _brains_, think you're so _special_, so bloody brilliant," Freya advanced on the taller Gryffindor girl, her heated words gritted in Hermione's carefully indifferent face, this girl was too slender to hold much clout intimidation wise, her eyes too large and doe like, her mouth too petite in her delicate features, it was rather misleading seeing as she was spewing nothing but venom and insults.

"Got to raise your hand every five minutes, don't you Granger, remind us all how intelligent you are, how you're _better_," before Hermione could argue, Freya latched onto her wrist, and the two lackeys, seemingly no more than a backdrop until now, ensnared the frizzy haired witch, twisting her free arm behind her back and keeping her still, with aggressive man handling, in her opinion. The now slightly worried Gryffindor cursed them heatedly under her breath, twisting and struggling in the black haired lout's grip to no avail. When his fingers squeezed her hips, rubbing a bit in a manner that wasn't so much violent as offensive and far too familiar, she stiffened in utter outrage, ready to kick his sorry arse in the tender bits.

"Don't touch that filth, August, you don't know where it's been," Freya chided, laughing at her own inept joke, the black haired boy stopped his unwarranted explorations, to Hermione's relief, "Think you'd be so keen to be an uppity bitch if we disfigured your hand, Granger?" The girl's almost black eyes were cold; her nails dug into the appendage in question, biting into the palm and causing Hermione to wince, which only made Freya's smirk grow, her nails stopping as they split the first layer of skin. "Think you'd be so quick to open that fat trap if I let my boys here put you to better use?" Noting the horror in Hermione's expression that wasn't as easy to hide as her reactions to the more mundane threats the girl had been casually spouting, Freya latched onto the weakness with eagerness suited to any Slytherin.

"How about it August," she directed her inquiry to the black haired brute holding Hermione captive, "want a bit of Mudblood?" Freya demanded, smirking, "A quick silencing charm, and no one would ever be the wiser, how about _that_, Miss Priss?" She traced the line of Hermione's cheek, causing bile to rise in her throat. The disgusting waste of flesh behind her snickered. "I'd ask Henry," she gave the blonde a fond look, "but he has better taste than to go slumming with some unworthy slag, don't you dear?" The blonde smirked, crossing his beefy arms and nodding smugly.

"Do you really think you're scaring me?" Hermione demanded of them, "I've seen death, I've had an unforgivable used on me, and you think three Slytherin brats in a school hallway are going to _teach me a lesson_? You're _pathetic_. I've been bullied before, little girl, so don't think you're anything new, and if you think you've got _one_ iota on the Death Eaters I've faced, you're sorely mistaken. You're a child trying to act big, and it shows, true vindictiveness just isn't your forte, you think you can handle this? You think for _one second_ you'd be standing there so smugly if you hadn't attacked my back? You're wrong." Granger sneered, "You're nothing but a petulant spoiled _brat._"

"You little…" Freya's profile twisted into something ugly and spiteful, right before she backhanded the still immobile Gryffindor, smirking in vindictive glee at the ragged gash her ring left across Granger's cheek. The wound stung, throbbing a bit as it bled crimson rivulets down her smooth skin. "I was just going to break your filthy little hand, to teach you some manners," her eyes slitted, "but now I think I'm going to let August have a go at you, for being such a condescending _bint_. You want vindictive, Granger? It's yours."

Freya tossed her glossy raven black hair, espresso eyes narrowed into feral slices, her pale cheeks flushed light pink in her ire, and with a sly look snapped Hermione's wand in two, dropping it onto the floor with a satisfied look. The splintered wood clattered in a morbid echo where it fell. Hermione gasped in simultaneous outrage and sadness, not her _wand_! The nerve of the Slytherin, did she not realize this was _school_, the teachers would be furious, and someone was bound to venture down this hall. As for August, Hermione shuddered in disgust, if he so much as _hugged_ her without her permission the Hogwarts wards would go a-wall, rape was not permitted in any part of the school, and precautions had been instilled here for _decades_. If this girl had read Hogwarts a History, she'd know that as well.

"I know what you're thinking," Freya kicked at the wand pieces, sending them skittering, "You're thinking some professor will come rushing to your aide, right?" She let out a short, barked laugh, "Wrong." Her hand flourished to her side, encompassing the entire length of the still deserted hallway. "This hall's been charmed to alert me if any teacher gets too nosey, and Henry's a real ace with disillusion spells," her lips twitched in a smirk, "as far as the school wards are concerned, this little corridor doesn't _exist_. I can do anything I want here," her expression was brimming with cold triumph, "What do you say to _that_ Mudblood?"

"I don't know about Granger," drawled a frigid voice, he'd approached from behind, and not one of them had noticed his silent advance, his cold drawl sent a shudder of recognition through the trapped Gryffindor, "but I'd say next time you should have the alert wards set for _anyone_ who happens to enter the hall, not just the teachers. That is, unless you _want_ to get caught." He crossed his arms, cool grey eyes surveying the scene before him in mild intrigue. Freya spun, eyes wide, and then snorted.

"Oh, it's just _you_," she snapped dismissively, "Good point Malfroy, I suppose, want to watch? I'm about to teach Miss_ Perfect_ here a lesson she'll never forget." Her smirk was coy, dark eyes inviting, and Granger fought a gag. This girl was _flirting_ with Malfroy? She must be mad, the sharp pale boy had become monumentally taciturn this year, most noted for being quiet and subtly sadistic, one was as likely to be kicked and hexed stupid by the blonde as given a 'hello'. Previous allegiances seemingly forgotten, Draco seemed determined to show case that as of this year, _everyone_ was his enemy, and he wasn't too keen on taking prisoners. His expressionless eyes surveyed the scene, lingering on Hermione for a moment, and then narrowing at the black haired boy behind her, his lip curling in disdain.

"No thanks, Freya, I've heard about your _lessons_," he eyed her in distaste, ignoring her pout, "You're an idiot, by the by." He straightened his robes and made as if he was going to be on his merry way, his steps precise and determined. Hermione gaped for a moment, aghast at his total lack of compassion, and then rolled her eyes, this _was_ Malfroy after all, him play white knight? Not in this universe. She should just be thankful he wasn't trying to give the Slytherin girl pointers; he had been her worst bully back in her early school years, after all.

"Wait!" Freya scowled when he ignored her, rushing up to grab his robes. He pivoted, sneered, and wrenched the garments free of her grasp with a derisive look. The slender girl looked taken aback, but quickly recovered. "Why?" He frowned, and then seemed to realize what her 'why' implied, looking briefly amused at the hurt in her eyes. It seemed the other Slytherins still looked up to their _prince_.

"Granger isn't like the others you bully, silly girl," he replied evenly, slowly, lest she misinterpret his meaning, "she _will_ tell on you and your pathetic little brigade, and then," he leaned forward, amused at the enraptured look on her face as his intensity seemed to draw Freya like a moth to a flame, "You'll be expelled, like so," He snapped his fingers quickly in her face, before spinning, and calling out in a cheerful and quite insincere drawl, "Do have fun with that," as his clipped steps retreated.

For a moment, a thick silence reigned the deserted hallway. The two Slytherin boys looked bored; however, their leader stood gazing after the blonde wizard, her expression petulant and cross. Her lower lip jutted outward in a frustrated pout as her eyes began to slowly narrow, and with a twisted, spiteful grimace she spun on the older witch still being held at her and her cohorts' mercy.

"Fucking Malfroy defends you?" the raven haired girl spat, suddenly livid, "_YOU?_ A no good Mudblood?" Hermione rolled her eyes, fighting the disbelief that she had ever been so _young_, so quick to judge.

"He's not defending me, you twit," Granger explained with a sigh, "Malfroy boasts the unique disposition of enjoying _everyone's_ suffering, he hardly limits himself to mine or yours," she grinned wryly, giving the young witch a amused look, "Why, are you jealous?" The Slytherin sputtered, eyes bulging.

"J-jealous, of _you_?" Freya stiffened in outrage, stepping back with a look of utter contempt, "You _wish_, bitch." She turned her simmering glare on her black haired lackey, "Just get on with it August! Now!" She stomped her foot, suddenly a spoiled little girl who wasn't getting her way fast enough, "And make it good," she added snidely, sashaying up to Granger with a smug, ruthless expression, her words silken venom, "You tell _anyone_ about this, and I'll have August here come visit you in your bedroom, how'd you like that, slag?" Cinnamon brown eyes narrowed, Hermione's jaw clenching at the younger girl's audacity.

"If you think your paltry threats will-" Hermione yelped as she was suddenly thrust into a wall, greasy hair nuzzling her neck as his fingers dug into her shoulders painfully. "Get off me, you dolt!" She demanded shrilly as he gave her a solicitous leer, "I _will_ scream." Freya cackled. She tried to knee his man bits, but he side stepped, winking at her mockingly.

"Go ahead, disillusion spells, remember? You don't think I'd be stupid enough to not put up a silencing charm as well?" She snorted, "You really are a lot stupider than everyone thinks, aren't you?"

"You'll be expelled for this!" Hermione hissed at the boy using his knees to pin her legs, her head thrashing in an effort to dislodge his disgusting mouth on the flesh of her neck, biting cruelly and slobbering excessively. No wonder the boy had to resort to force to get any action. His hair was nasty and unkept, black greasy strands fell into her face as he continued his very much unwanted advances, causing her to cringe in revulsion each time one of the unwashed strands brushed her skin. He noted her body language and shot her a dark, satisfied look that made her skin crawl, apparently August here got off on struggling and fighting. Utterly revolting.

"You disgusting vile little-" She tried to continue her tirade, only to have more silence fall from her mouth, he'd cast a _silencio _on her, and at her glared expression of revulsion and mild panic, he gave her a lecherous smile. Another wave of his wand and she was magically thrown flush against the wall, unable to move anything but her mouth, which couldn't even emit a squeak of indignation because of the _silencio _he'd cast first. For the first time, and feeling quite foolish for naivety, she realized they were _serious_. This _boy_ really intended on molesting her, and from Malfroy's commentary, she was hardly the first. That made her blood boil, her cheeks flush, and if she could've she would've hexed the git so hard his grand mum would've felt it! As it was she was trapped, forced to endure his amateur groping and squeezing passively, even as she inwardly shrieked and yearned to beat him off her.

"Not so smug now, are we?" Freya laughed, black eyes glittering from where she stood, her blonde lackey had his arm around her, and Hermione's nose crinkled as she realized _watching_ seemed to be his thing, because he was slowly but surely working his hands inside of the Slytherin girl's robes. Ugh. Imagining what McGonagall would do to the lot of them after she informed the Head Mistress of this atrocious stunt assuaged her rising rage slightly, that is, it _did_ until the vile waste of air sucking on her neck suddenly vanished her shirt with another smirking leer, exposing her ice blue satin bra and toned stomach to three pairs of sadistic, mocking eyes.

Hermione let out a soundless shriek of indignation, to his apparent amusement, thrashing wildly against her magical binds. His eyes roved her exposed skin in a lecherous manner as she did so, his pointy and unattractive features set in an anticipatory cast that made her stomach churn and heave, settling into frozen rock consistency as it dropped inside her, a disgusted bile forming in her throat at his obvious enthusiasm and her growing sense of helpless vulnerability.

"Nice," he murmured, licking his lips while his eyes glazed with lust, "I'm going to be extra slow with you," he added in a low tone, "and when Freya goes off with Henry," his hand pressed against the apex of her thighs, causing a jolt of pure terror to jab through her, "We'll see if these match, eh?" Hermione's brown eyes grew the size of saucers as she realized exactly _what_ he was insinuating, and seeing the realization in her stare he chortled at her desperate look of defiance.

"Lingerie Granger, didn't know you had it in you," was the observing witch's catty remark. One eyebrow raised as her lips twitched in amusement. "August, be a dear and wreck it for me, that blue is far too pretty for her ugly skin." The panting boy petting her stomach and leering at her, eagerly complied, causing her revulsion to double, he ripped through the fabric with a smirk and her breasts tumbled free, causing her to blush in mortification and simultaneous rage. He licked his lips again, shredding her bra into thin strips with his wand and tossing it aside carelessly, mouth forming a knowing smirk at her increased panic. His hands rose, likely intent on fondling her some more, when suddenly the wolf faced git was tossed backwards, off her entirely, his body cracking against a wall and falling limply to the floor. Her rescue had finally come.

"Fucking A," Freya spat, "Show yourself!" She spun, wand outstretched, and Hermione realized her rescuer had chosen a disillusionment charm, a smart choice against three opponents. The blonde boy, Henry, went next, _supify_'d with a jolt of red magic and sent skittering past the hall's wards. The students who were passing by, unable to see the hall's contents unless they ventured inside, blinked in shock at the unconscious Slytherin's sudden appearance. He was quickly identified and carted elsewhere, the infirmary most likely. That left a suddenly panicked looking Freya, spinning wilding in alarm, and Hermione, half naked and magically bound to a wall, her wand in pieces at the floor.

"You fucking coward, don't have the balls to show your face? Not that I blame you, I wouldn't be caught dead saving a Mudblood either," she sneered, "Especially one so _ugly_." She was hoping, it seemed, to taunt the mystery addition into revealing his or herself, but it wasn't working. A snort of amusement was heard before Freya too was stunned and tossed out from the hall, her landing was less stable, as the assailant managed to deposit her at the opposite end, where no students lingered, just one antagonizing poltergeist. Hermione fought a smirk as she heard the ghost debating to himself.

"Students shouldn't be sleeping, no, that's _rule breaking_," Peeves tsked, "I wonder if some lake water would wake her?" He seemed to like his idea, but before floating off to gather some of said lake water, he thoroughly enjoyed painting her face royal blue with a pilfered bottle of ink, giggling to himself and making comments as he did so. Hermione observed this for a moment, amused. Of course, a sudden slightly chilled breeze abruptly reminded her that she was still partially naked, not to mention magically bound to a wall, and she glanced around apprehensively, trying to discern where her invisible rescuer lurked.

She opened her mouth to speak, and found herself still rendered speechless by the _silencio_. Frustrated, she struggled to form a word, trying to force her mouth into emitting sound, when a slight magically pressure let her know her incognito white knight had reversed the incantation. She exhaled her relief.

"Thanks," she offered to the seemingly still empty hall, squinting in the sunlight, looking for a tell tale shadow, "I mean, for rescuing me…" she trailed off, had they just done away with the Slytherins and left her to her own devices? That wasn't very nice. Her wand was decidedly broken, and she was still trapped to a hallway wall. Some rescuer.

"Hello?" she called out weakly, feeling a tad foolish. "Anyone?" She shivered in her exposed state, glad she'd at least worn jeans beneath her robes. Her eyes flickered about the hall, eyeing her torn bra and discarded shirt longingly. "A little help?" She questioned meekly. She felt, rather than saw, someone close to her, and stiffened in response, her eyes narrowed at where she suspected the presence lurked.

Hermione startled as she felt cool breath slide across her cheek; her eyes widening to large circles as she realized just how close this person was to her, not to mention how vulnerable a state she was in, helpless to stop anything if any harm was intended. "Who _are_ you?" She asked, certain they were as unlikely to respond to that as all her other attempts at engaging conversation. A soft chuckle caused her to flush in ire, was she being _laughed_ at?

"Foolish Granger," said a soft, silken whisper chided in a slightly mocking way, "to think I expected more from you." Hermione huffed.

"Yes well," she harrumphed, "No one's perfect."

"Mmhmm," was the distracted agreement, "I think," the voice began smugly, "that a thank you is in order."

"I already thanked you," she replied mulishly, "and I shall again, when you get me down. It's rather chilly in here."

"So it is," was the amused reply. Hermione wasn't certain, but she got the uncomfortable impression her invisible companion was staring at her breasts when he said this. She refrained from looking downward, uncomfortably aware her nipples were erect from the cooler hallway air, a blush spread from her cheeks to her chest.

"I don't want your _words_ Granger," the silken voice scoffed, "I want… compensation." Her nose wrinkled.

"Fat chance," she sniffed, pretty certain where this was leading. Of all the nerve! She'd just been molested; it wasn't like she was in a rush to have any more strange hands on her! Not in this lifetime, thanks.

"Well then," came the miffed whisper, "have fun, hanging out." She sputtered.

"You _wouldn't_!" she cried in alarm. He couldn't leave her like this! Someone else would find her, and she couldn't handle yet another person seeing her so defenseless and well, _naked_. A derisive chuckle met her ears.

"Oh believe me; I _would_," came the smug reply, "So? Which do you value more?" he demanded, "Your propriety… or your freedom?" Hermione flushed.

"What, exactly, are you insinuating?" she asked, eyes narrowing in dislike. Some rescuer, he was nearly as bad as her attackers!

"Five minutes, Granger, free range exploration," at her look of disgust the voice felt the need to mention, "I'd like it noted I could simply _take_ what I want, seeing as you're still magically bound, but have instead chosen to _ask_." Of all the rubbish!

"You're not _asking_, you're _blackmailing_," she retorted sourly.

"I didn't expect to like what I saw," came the gritted whisper, "I planned on leaving you here, you know, for someone to find, I even considered alerting Peeves. Would you prefer I stick to my original plan?" His voice was gruff and agitated, the whisper rough and low.

"Why did you even _save_ me if you weren't going to let me down?" she demanded, aghast and suspicious.

"Just because I disapprove of rape in school hallways, doesn't mean I _like_ you," came the bored retort, "I don't have all day, you know. Yes or no, Granger. It's the least you can do, really."

"Of all the!" she shook her head, struggling futilely for a moment against her invisible bonds, "Oh bullocks," she sighed, "Get on with it then, but I want it noted I'm only agreeing out of utter desperation." The way the hallway was disillusioned it could take a professor or fellow student _weeks_ to discover it, the castle was simply too large to leave her fate to chance. She was trapped, and her "rescuer" knew it.

"Duly noted," came the sarcastic remark.

"And keep it above the belt!" She added for good measure.

"I think I'm beginning to see why he _silencio_'d you," was the muttered reply. She glared, ready to deliver a scathing reply, when suddenly her oxygen expelled itself rapidly in a shocked gasp. A cold touch clasped her hips, making her sullenly wish, as Freya had earlier, that this person had the guts to show his face. As smooth, slightly chilled hands, invisible to her eyes, began swirling around her navel and eliciting a sharp, shocked gasp from her lips, she supposed it might be better if she _didn't_ know. She'd certainly never be able to look this person in the eyes afterwards, that was for sure.

"Wha..?" She bit her lip, appalled at the throaty noise stuck in her mouth, as slender fingers dipped in and out of her navel in a crude mimicry of sex, causing her to clench and respond in areas she didn't want to be responding in! His touch was certain, feather light, circling her belly button in leisurely fashion before slipping in, exuding a soft pressure, and repeating the motion, even going so far as to tease along the seam of her jeans in a suggestive way that had her breath hitching despite her determination to remain unmoved.

"Hey…" she began, wincing at the sultry burr to her voice.

"Shut up and enjoy it," a hard, gritted whisper suggested. She shivered at the ghost of his exhale caressing her ear. A wet tongue darted out, tasting the shell of it, and she arched against her will as his finger chose that moment to clasp her nipples lightly, squeezing at them with dexterous agility. She groaned, damn it, she wasn't supposed to like this! Unfortunately, this person seemed to be a lot more skilled than a clumsy fifth year like August, this person knew exactly what he wanted, what would make her squirm and writhe, it made the younger boy's unskilled caresses seem positively barbaric in comparison.

A cold finger pressed against her lips, tracing the bottom one, and she let her mouth part a bit in surprise, just in time to stiffen in shock as a hard mouth slanted against its length, tongue licking, teeth nipping, the person kissed like he was trying to brand you, own you, and without intended to Hermione found herself slipping into a tidal wave of sensation. She fought against the current but it pressed back at her with equal if not greater force, the caress his lips soft and sweet in contrast to the lust driven intensity of his tongue, his long fingers threading in her wild hair as he pressed against her. Finally, after what had to be a minute of thrusting tongues, nibbling, and his teasingly cool fingers skimming her stomach in lazy patterns, the mouth broke from her own with a gasp for air.

"Ever been fucked before Granger?" came the sultry demand. Her eyes widened comically. The voice snickered, "Ever _liked_ it?" Before she could answer a soft finger pad was tracing the underside of her breasts, memorizing the flesh, causing her to burn and wiggle in discomfort and growing arousal, "Ever wanted it, even when it was wrong?" he added softly, and his finger flicked her nipple, twisting it, pulled, and then went back to gentle tracing her overly sensitive flesh. The other was given the same treatment, followed by more teasing, he pinched and petted, rubbed and flicked, until she was wild and unstable with an unwanted desire. She was actually panting, and logically she knew that it was so wrong, but it wasn't like she could argue, she'd agreed after all. Hermione frowned as a nagging inward voice enquired if that was the _only_ reason she wasn't arguing. Merlin she hoped so.

A knee pressed between her legs, adding friction where she sorely craved it, she was about to mention her 'above the belt' rule, honestly she was, when a hot mouth clamped over one mound, his teeth scraping her teased nipple as the knee gently nudged her now aching sex.

"Oh my _God_," she gasped, as the teeth pulled and twisted a bit, his other hand pinching her left nipple, stroking it, and pinching once more. She was straining against her binds for a far different reason than she had with August. His knee shifted and she moaned, knowing she should be mortified, but no longer able to force herself into caring. Damn hormones. Damn skilled tongues and fingers, and knees, damn kinky minded invisible rescuers, and damn her for wanting more than five minutes! She was barmy, she'd cool off and come to her senses shortly, just not while he was doing _that_.

His mouth nipped her neck, and then, after a languid lick, bit down _hard, _at the same time his fingers pinched her nipples roughly, causing her to arch into his knee, which obligingly shifted back and forth, stirring more red haze into her already clouded mind. She was drenched, suspended in this carnal display, she'd never been consumed like this, usually when a boy kissed her she was still reciting arithmacy formulas in her head, waiting for it to be over. Not this time.

"Tell me Granger, in exactly two minutes, do you really want me to let you down and be on my merry way?" sensing her hesitance, his unseen hands clasped her breasts in his palms, kneading her flesh as he pinched the nipples between his fingers, causing her whole upper half to flare to a new inferno of want. His knee caressed her lightly, and she moaned, "Or take you downstairs and have my way with you?" His voice was a purr, "I would make it fun," he promised, tweaking her nipples and eliciting another moan, "You, tied to my bed, I bet you'd like that," he told her smugly, "Blindfolded as I took you, again, and again, because I'm a man of _stamina_, Granger," she gnashed her teeth to strangle another moan as evidence of his arousal replaced his knee, pressing at her in the worst (or best) sort of way. "I will have you until you collapse in sheer ecstasy, and when you wake up," the throaty voice whispered, "it will be to me inside you," his breath caressed the shell of her ear as her mind swam with dizzying, dastardly thoughts, "taking you again."

"Fuck…" she was beyond coherent thought. The expletive caused her seducer to chuckle.

"Exactly," he agreed, amused.

"I don't even know who you are," she groaned, eyes fluttering as he continued to massage her breasts, likely with the intention of preventing her from thinking this through. Too bad for her it was working. He pressed firmly against her again, and she arched, his mouth clamped her other nipple, a hot cavern of torturous pleasure, submerging her in each textile friction, each press of lips, each scrape of teeth, he bit hard and she arched further, and with a chuckle he did the same to her other breast, his cold hand dipping and out of her navel, driving her wild.

"Or I could take you right here," he murmured, "On the cold floor, I bet you're already wet, aren't you sweet?" his hand slipped between their pelvises, cupping her through the rough fabric of her jeans. She shuddered at the contact, arching towards his hand without intending to. Apparently, her hormones had already decided that this was a grand idea; thank Merlin she didn't let them have say over her brain. _What brain?_ Her libido sighed in dreamy demand. Her thoughts were very much being swayed by the sensations coursing through her, red hot lust surging through her every nerve ending, short circuiting her logic. It wasn't fair.

"You are," he groaned, rubbing her, and Hermione gasped as her clit was inadvertently ground against through the material, "Please, Granger," he begged, "Hermione, please, just this once, don't think." She bit her cheek. His finger drew a line across the ridge in her jeans, creating havoc on her senses. He sure drove a hard bargain.

"You won't tell anyone?" she demanded; since she didn't get to know _who_ she was shagging, she'd at least like to be certain they wouldn't go spouting it off at every chance. She had her reputation to think of, after all.

"Trust me, it never crossed my mind," he replied dryly. She rolled her eyes. He ground against her.

"Yes or no?" he demanded. Pushy little git, wasn't he?

"Will you unbind me?" She asked. A still invisible finger flicked her nipple, and she was lost to five second of blind lust as he explored her, apparently in no hurry to answer her questions.

"Eventually," a throaty voice promised, directly next to her ear, "Can't very well spank you on the wall, can I?"

"S-s-spank me?" she echoed incredulously. He chuckled.

"You'll love it," he assured her, "just like you'll love this, just agree already," his tone was urgent, commanding, "I know you want to." She bit her lip and the male voice groaned. "If I'd known you were _this_ interesting Granger, I might have tried something like this sooner."

"Well I'm not sure I would've agreed, these are sort of unprecedented circumstances for me," she replied stiffly. "But thanks, I suppose." She shivered as his cool knuckles grazed her enflamed cheeks in a soft caress.

"You would've," was his smug reply, "now say it, Granger, say yes, and I'll reward you."

"Reward me?" she was confused.

"Were you a parrot in another life?" he demanded, exasperated, "Yes or _no_, Granger, tick tock and all that." She worried her lip in her teeth, groaning a bit as skilled fingers grabbed her ass, grinding her against his solid form, and _boy_ was he solid. This was stupid, crazy, they were in _school_; she didn't even know his _name_, not to mention all the other more elusive ramifications that could occur. Oh bullocks, a girl only lived _once_.

"Yes," no sooner had the words left her mouth than his lips crashed on hers, his fingers deftly undoing her jeans. Some wizards fumbled with trousers on a girl, but not this one, he seemed disturbing familiar with the apparel, his fingers gliding and teasing as he slipped down the metal zipper, revealing her ice blue satin thong, it was simple, pretty, but simple, just a cut of light blue fabric. She could feel his eyes on her, appraising her choice in under things.

"You learn new things every day," the male muttered, his finger pressed against the damp silk, sliding back and forth in sweet torture. "Want your reward, pet?" he purred, looking into her flushed, slightly glazed features, he smirked, oh yes, Granger was almost begging for it. He'd like to see her beg, personally, and he would, shortly.

"Mmmhmm," she managed, obviously lost to his masterful touches. He preened at his own self praise, sliding his finger back and forth against her lovely little sex as his mouth lowered to capture one of her perky pink nipples. He loved her nipples, soft and velvety, and so responsive. His tongue traced her left, testing the tender flesh in his teeth before dragging them back off the bud slowly, earning him a throaty moan of encouragement. She liked that, he knew it, and she'd _love_ this.

"I'm going to fuck you, Granger, just so we're clear," he promised darkly, "but first," he smiled into her neck, giving her a playful nip that caused her to gasp in the way he was quickly growing fond of, "I'm going to make you come for me," his finger slipped aside her tantalizing thong, tracing her heated flesh, dipping across each nuance, memorizing each curve and dip, she was panting, her head resting on his invisible shoulder in her wanton abandon. He doubted she even realized. He found her clit, but ignored it, her frustrated mewl showed she didn't quite appreciate his restraint, and he smirked as his finger lightly grazed her entrance, giving her too little for what her body craved.

"Please," she groaned. He chuckled, pretending he hadn't heard, his other hand rising to idly pinch and cup her lovely tits, his finger working a slow, sensual circle inside her. She arched, wiggling ineffectively against her magical binding, trying to gain more friction than he allowed, and merely to show her who was in charge, he rubbed the nub of pleasure between her legs, causing her to cry out in unchecked enthusiasm. Perfect. His finger resumed its previous teasing glide, slowly going further and further into her, then adding two fingers, until she was a writhing flushed puddle of desire in his hands, his thumb flicked her clit and he watched as she seemed to go momentarily blind from the sensation. She was close.

"Lovely," he remarked, mostly to himself, nothing like a magically bound and terribly aroused witch in a hidden hallway to make him uncomfortably hard. She moaned something undistinguishable. "What is it?" he enquired lightly, well aware what was causing her to trash wildly, to respond so aggressively, she glared at him with lusty chocolate eyes, a wicked flare of need burning in their depths.

"Don't toy with me," she growled. "Please," she added in a throaty whisper as he flicked her clit in reprimand, she didn't get to be bossy with him, he was in charge here. She shuddered, suspended on the brink of pleasure, and he watched her with a small smirk, her prettily flushed features, her intensely heated eyes, not to mention her perky breasts, all of which were _his_ for the next few hours, and he intended to utilize them to his fullest capacity.

"It's simple," he informed her, idly stroking her through her scrap of underwear, she groaned in frustration, "Beg me for it, and it's yours, pet," she blinked at him uncomprehendingly and he cupped her in his palm, grinding against her swollen flesh harshly, causing her to stifle another throaty moan.

"For the love of Merlin," she groaned in exasperation, her voice rough with unspent passion and raw need, "Please, please, _please, _damn it," she demanded of him in irritation.

"That's not good enough," he reprimanded, withdrawing his hand, smiling as she whimpered. "I could keep you like this for _hours_ Granger… How about it?" he hissed into her ear, tweaking her nipples in a punishing twist, "Eventually you'll learn how one begs properly."

"Please," she breathed raggedly, "_please_…"

He licked his lips, eyes flashing, "Please _what_?" She moaned in utter carnal frustration.

"Please let me cum," she groaned, and he smirked.

"Filthy mouths Granger, lead to filthy deeds, remember that when I'm fucking the wit from your tongue," he uttered, more than aroused himself, his mind swimming with what he intended to do to her, with her, and all the delicious ways he could think of carrying them out. When it came to sex he was a bit of a control freak, it was just his luck he happened to be very good at reading people, and knew how to use that to press his advantage. For all Granger knew, anyway, she was fucking the invisible man, and he was fine with that, as long as she did in fact let him fuck her.

He slid a finger deep in her, his mouth wrapping at the column of her throat and licking and nibbling down to the sweet curves of her breasts, she was back at the brink in no time, flushed and thrashing, he inserted two more fingers, rolling them in a way that caused her eyes to wince in pure pleasure, and then with a clamp of his teeth and a flick of her clit she was exploding around him, face lost to the abandon of release, breasts and sex shivering against him as he pressed her close, his erection grinding her a bit as she fell apart at the seams. An orgasming Granger was a sight to behold, her eyes flared deep espresso, her mouth parted and released the most delightful little moans, and still she strained towards him in her binds, desperate for more. He released her from them with a flick of his wand, letting her limply fall into his chest and scooping her up. With another incantation a soft feather mattress appeared, and he dropped her onto it, ignoring her yelp of shock, and vanished his clothes from his body, finally freeing his now throbbing erection.

She tried to get up, and he frowned, for a moment suffering a jolt of fear that she would try and leave now that he'd let her have her release, but after wiggling her way out of her now dripping panties, she merely slumped backwards, breathing heavily. A splayed, panting Granger was almost as nice a view as an orgasming one, and he stood to appreciate it momentarily before binding her to the bed with a flick of his wand, and then discarding that as well.

"What the?" She scowled as she discovered he'd locked her wrists and ankles to the mattress, keeping her spread eagle for his enjoyment and subdued for his need to control. "Is this really necessary?" she asked, seemingly amused. He frowned, reached down for his wand and flipped her onto her belly, still bound.

"No," he hissed into her ear, wrapping his hand in her hair and yanking her head up to whisper furiously at her, "but this is." Her eyes widened in fear, and so he stroked her still wet sex, satisfied when lust once again gleamed in their depths, she was too responsive for her own good, he'd have so much fun taking advantage of that. He reached round, fondling her breasts a bit, grinding his now freed cock against the back of her thigh, loving the friction of her smooth skin; the chit had great legs, not to mention a nice arse. An arse he intended to pinken in return for her smart mouth. "Ever been spanked, Granger?" at her wide eyed head shake he chuckled in devious delight, "Then seeing as I'm your first, I'll clarify a few things, shall I?" He caressed her sweet ass, and then ran a finger across the apex of her thighs, glad to see she was still responding marvelously, his own restraint was beginning to wear on him, he'd have to make this quick, but it would still be worth it.

Never in a million years would he have thought he'd _spank_ Hermione Granger, his eyes darkened with anticipation, she'd had this coming since third year.

He brought his hand down on one cheek in mid caress, causing her whole body to jerk in shock, she yelped at the contact, he smoothed his palm over her rapidly coloring flesh, "Now, I'm going to spank you ten times, Granger, _ten_, for being a smart mouthed little tease, for coming before me, and for questioning my binding you to the mattress. You will count," she opened her mouth, likely intent on arguing and he cut her off, "If you don't comply," he added, "I'll take you hard and fast, for _my_ pleasure, and spank you anyway."

"T-that's _not fair_," she protested, but her protests sounded weak and half hearted, even to his ears. An intrigued look flitted briefly across his face, he'd half expected her outrage to end this quickly, but despite her protests, he'd very much wager she _liked_ what he was doing, even if her pride prevented her from admitting to it.

"That's _life_, love," he growled, "Now…" he brought his hand down in a smart little spank. "Count." He could get used to this, her being his to toy with; she was ever so much more fun than his usual options. They _loved_ doing his bidding, never argued, never questioned, it left the element of surprise sorely lacking. He knew he'd likely never get this chance again, and damn it, he wanted it _all_. Absently he wondered if he could get her to play his games, like he had gotten the others to, and smugly assured himself he'd leave her little choice in the matter. She was _his_. He'd decided.

"O-one." He stroked between her legs, glad to find her still as aroused as before, if not more so. She didn't mind the spanking as much as she'd like him to believe. He pinched her bum before smacking her again, she jerked, and he stifled a groan as the movement brushed her leg against his rock hard member. Three and four went along nicely, she counted five a bit breathlessly, and that's when he knew for sure she liked this, she'd probably go to her grave denying it, but Granger liked a bit of rough play, and that suited him just fine. He bet her little Weasel never gave her a good spanking, and what a pity, because she seemed in need of one. Oh well, all the more reason for him to rectify that fool's mistake.

By ten he was gnashing his teeth to keep from getting too excited and listing Quidditch players in his head to keep focused. She was faring little better, and it was with much satisfaction that he grabbed his wand, flipping her over for his inspection; she was flushed, and receptive, he saw evidence of her passion and lust from where he sat, eyeing her hungrily. He briefly wondered why she didn't look him in the eye, and then belatedly recalled that he was still under that damn disillusion charm. If he took it off now, she might stop him just because he was who he was, he contemplated this, and decided that he wouldn't give her the chance to _say_ no.

Leaning over her, he began his careful administrations, working her into lust driven frenzy again, his body pressed against her heated flesh, he didn't even mind the coarseness of her untamably curly hair, to his surprise, as he wrapped his hands in it and snogged her until she was straining at his bonds, seemingly eager to be closer to warm length of flesh rested on her inner thigh.

"Can I gag you?" he whispered urgently, she blinked, eyeing him in confusion, and hesitantly agreed. He smirked, summoning a length of black silk and wrapping it around her mouth, her brows were furrowed, likely trying to discern what he was up to. If she only knew. He ignored the questions in her eyes, resuming his earlier ardor with skilled precision, and then, when he was ready, and she was arching aggressively against him, he filled her in one, blissful, consuming stroke. She gasped, and he smirked, she was tight, and he wasn't small. They fit well, though, and he shifted, experimenting, delighted in her moan.

"Granger," he breathed into her neck, "Do _not_ over react," he groped for his wand, and with a flourish, revealed himself, still buried inside her. Her eyes went from wide with passion, to gigantic in shock, her mouth dropped, and he fought the urge to sneer at her. With a sigh, because judging from the look in her eyes that she wanted to gag off _now_, he complied, cursing himself for being so rash. He should've taken her and shown himself after.

"M-m-malfroy? But I don't…" her brow furrowed, "_You_? Really?" She was having trouble grasping the concept, so he waited for it to register, for horror to dawn, for her to demand for him to get off her. Suddenly, to his complete and utter shock she shrugged. "Never would've guessed." His eyes narrowed, cheeky little…

"You'll regret that," he growled, she giggled; he plunged deeper into her and her giggle ended in a sharp gasp. "When you come, you _will_ scream my name." He ordered, his thrusts slow and decidedly agonizing, she thrust up to meet him, apparently his identity hadn't affected her eagerness. However, if she'd be as accepting when the deed was done, he couldn't be sure. He hoped she was, in fact, he found himself hoping that she'd be up for a repeat, or four, or ten…but Granger was tricky, harder to read than most, and he'd spent little time bothering to observe her in any case, at least, before today, to really know what her most likely course of action was to be.

"I should've guessed it was you," she panted between his thrusts, at his indulgent glance she added, "by your arrogance." He arched an eyebrow, quickening his pace, and she moaned. His teeth branded her neck, his hand wrapping around her bound wrists as his tempo increased to a maddening pace. There was no him, no her, no school, no sunlight, just euphoria, just the meeting of flesh, the melding of bodies intertwined with their heavy breathing. He drowned in the feel of her, she was consumed by his movements, hyper aware of his every touch, enthralled by his passion filled grey eyes.

Hermione had never been given any reason to think on Malfroy's looks, and so she was surprised to find how attractive his swirling grey irises were, how soft and silky his pure blonde hair was, the utter perfection of his leanly sculpted body, all hard angles and lithely packed strength. It turned out he hadn't been exaggerating about his stamina, even as she felt her own release build like a summer storm and crash over her like the sweetest spring rain, he continued his mad thrusting, eyes glittering pewter grey, so intense and dark they were like thunder clouds gathering for a storm.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice the silken whisper from before, and she realized in her lust addled haze that he still wanted her to say his name. Blushing, despite all the intimacies they'd shared, she offered up a half-moaned, "Malfroy…" and that seemed to suffice. His eyes shuttered and he began striving towards his own satisfaction. After a few more strokes, in which he sent her cascading off her first ripple of pleasure directly into another onslaught of shuddering release, he came as well, his fingers biting into her hips, his teeth marking the flesh of her neck. He growled her name into her skin, wrapping his hands more firmly around her wrists, and sighed with contentment as his body finally went lax.

It took a couple minutes for it to _really_ settle in. When it did, it hit her with the subtle grace of a speeding locomotive.

"Oh Merlin," Hermione groaned, the limp weight of Malfroy still lazily slung across her; she added a few choice swears to her self chiding. Had she just shagged _Malfroy_? In school?? What was the world coming to? What about Ron? She'd said they'd take a short break, and he'd agreed, but they'd both sort of counted on their reunion the second her last year was finished. Well, that wasn't likely to happen, not anymore; not with her shagging the person Ron considered to be the biggest prat in the existence of the world. She was _so_ stupid.

Oh well, it had been _some_ shag, came a dreamy inward sigh of contentment. She scowled, distraught that her libido seemed to be vocalizing more of its unwanted advice. Bad hormones! They were what got her into this mess to begin with. She sighed.

"Regretting it?" enquired a cold tone, one eyebrow arched lazily, he'd propped his head up on his palm, regarding her seriously, "How very…" his nose wrinkled, "_like you_." She frowned, her cocoa eyes narrowing in affront, '_like her'_ indeed! As if he knew one thing about her!

"Actually," she told him in her prissiest tone, "I was comparing it to my other experiences." It was his turn to glare, but he didn't rise to the bait, he just gave her a lingering look before rolling off her.

"Oh? And how did I rank, pray tell?" He demanded, lying back next to her on the mattress, his arms folded behind his head in an arrogant sprawl, both still too spent to be bothered moving. He looked casually sated, and very relaxed, two things she'd never seen him be around her before. He was rather pretty, as far as looks go, and although she was certain he'd much rather be called handsome it just wasn't true. Malfroy was pretty. He was delicate and pale, lean and lithe, with that blonde hair, and those engaging grey eyes, he was too feminine to be deemed handsome, his beauty too intense. Realizing she hadn't answered his question, she sighed, letting herself droop into a relaxed lethargy.

"I don't want to say, you're egos already too big," she pouted. He snickered. Eyeing him from the corner of her gaze, her tone carried a hint of amusement, "Mind unbinding me?" She asked after a length of, if not comfortable silence, than at least tension free quiet. She should be more upset by this whole situation, but in post-orgasm haze she couldn't summon the correct amount of ire, her body was still humming his praises, much to her chagrin. He rose with a leisurely stretch, putting his body on display in his cat-like movement, and reached for his wand, unbinding her with a smirk.

"Well, in all fairness, seeing as you're so fond of that concept," he drawled, summoning his robes with a matter-of-fact _accio_. "You weren't half bad yourself, Granger, who would've guessed?" He chuckled. She scowled at him, sitting up and wearily spotting her robes, shirt, pants, and bra, when her eyes fell on her broken wand she felt a wave of sadness, that had really been cruel of that Slytherin girl, a wand was personal, not meant to be treated so poorly, or destroyed so lightly.

"What now?" she jerked in shock as a cool hand cupped her face, forcing her chin upward her gaze meeting intense grey eyes, "Hmm? Granger, what's with the lost puppy look?" She blushed, and then frowned to herself; she did _not_ look like a lost puppy. He eyed her intently, and she worried her lip self consciously.

"That idiot broke my wand," she muttered mulishly, glaring as he laughed at her.

"_That's_ all?" he seemed, for lack of a better word, relieved. Sardonic eyes met hers, a smirk curving his lips, "I'd have thought your line of thinking would be slightly more… erotic, given what just occurred." It was her turn to smirk.

"Priorities, Malfroy," she chided, "I have class tonight, and you shagging me hardly interferes with that, however, not having a wand definitely _does_." He scowled, his hand releasing her chin, turning to pull up his trousers and fasten them, Draco Malfroy in nothing but black pants was a decidedly nice view, to Hermione's shock. She hadn't even really gotten a chance to explore his body, as her hands were bound, her libido pouted at that; looking like the lost puppy Malfroy accused her of being. She scowled at her inner monolog. Bad hormones!

"Enjoying the view?" he asked with amusement, shrugging on his shirt, his chest muscles bunched and pulled as he did so, drawing her stare, at her silent appraisal his smirk intensified. "I do believe you _are_," he sauntered towards her, eyes narrowing like a cat who's spotted the canary. She swallowed, and then curtly reminded herself she'd just had sex with Malfroy not a full ten minutes prior, she was entitled to some ogling.

Yet, somehow, instead of mustering up some witty retort, or waiting to see what a smirking, predatory Malfroy might feel inclined to say about her using him for eye candy, she hurried off of the mattress and began collecting her things, cursing the absence of her wand as she did so. She could practically sense his amusement at her skittish behavior. Sometimes the best reaction was indifference; she hadn't a clue how to interact with Malfroy now that the 'I'm-naked-take-me-now' part was over. They'd never been friends, in fact, it was hardly a stretch to say they'd been enemies on more than one occasion, not to mention that last she checked she was still Muggleborn and he was still a pureblooded bigot, so really, what sort of light conversation was there to make? The most obvious answer was _none_. She should just get dressed, gather her books, and hope beyond all hope that her next class didn't require any in-class wand work.

Hermione slid into her jeans, completely unaware of a pair of observant grey eyes tracing her figure in silent contemplation; he smirked as she bent to retrieve her shirt, the slight pink on her pale skin reminding him of the incredible fact that he'd actually shagged _her_, Hermione Granger, not ten minutes ago. It was wrong, likely as not, a bad idea, he could admit it, but being wrong or bad was never much of a deterrent for him, he was quite comfortable ignoring any moral stipulations to get what he wanted, and as a Malfroy, he _always_ got what he wanted. Well, most of the time. He slipped up behind her as she bent to pick up her robes, wrapping his arms around her middle and lightly tracing the dip of her throat with nose and lips, nuzzling even as he trapped her in his arms. Her shocked gasp confirmed that she hadn't had any inclination that he'd gotten so close, let alone that he'd still want to touch her now that the shagging bit was over, but that was the thing, really, he didn't especially _want_ it to be over. For now, perhaps, but not permanently, he had some short term goals to achieve, a few fantasies he'd like to enact with her before he gave her up to her red haired Weasel. He'd learned long ago that a few pretenses of affection could go a long way in securing another go with any female.

"Malfroy," she began with a sigh as she tried to pull away and he refused to allow her to. He gently nipped her neck in reprimand, causing her to still and flush ever so slightly.

"Call me Draco," he insisted, ignoring her brief look of shock.

"Draco," she tested it out, smirked, and shook her head lightly, "It sounds odd." He scowled darkly, and she quickly added, "Not your name, idiot, just…you know, being so _familiar_ with _you_, it's….different." He shrugged, his hands splaying across her hips, his breath softly tickling her neck.

"What's in a name," he quoted absently, "A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet." She shot him an amused look at his knowledge of Shakespeare.

"A Muggle quote? Now I'm _really_ impressed," she replied with a wry grin. He smirked.

"I _have_ been told I'm quite impressive," he informed her with a preening look, she giggled. In an abrupt change of topic he suddenly enquired, "What time is your next class?" giggles done, she tilted her head, looking up and back at him with a slight frown, as if trying to read his motives for asking.

"In a half hour," she replied nonchalantly. He nodded, looking a bit miffed. That wasn't _nearly_ enough time.

"And tomorrow?" he pressed, "When do you have class?" With a funny little look over her shoulder at him she recited her schedule, her Charms and Potions class was the next day, and she added a bit sadly that she supposed she would have to go to Hogsmead as well and locate a new wand. He nodded thoughtfully, releasing her from his grip when she once again expressed her desire to be free.

"Will you come to the dungeons tomorrow night?" He asked as casually as possible, trying to hide the eager light in his eyes. She paused mid-book retrieval and frowned.

"I don't think that would be a very good idea," she admitted, biting her lip, a habit he noticed she entertained when nervous. He frowned.

"Really?" He drawled, "Because I think it's an _excellent_ idea."

"You would," she snorted. He peered at her in affront.

"And what, exactly," he gritted through clenched teeth, "is _that_ supposed to mean." She gave him a level look, and then shook her head in bemusement.

"Well, _you_ are Draco Malfroy," she pointed out, suddenly vocalizing what he deemed the blatantly obvious, "If anyone finds out about _this_," she indicated the mattress with a wave of her hand, "it likely wouldn't affect you in the least. Your rich, young, and _male_, shagging in a school corridor for someone like you is practically acceptable. However," she took a deep breath, "I have a reputation to think of, and I don't have the privilege of your resources, if someone decided to spread knowledge of this around I'm certain I'd be painted in a very bad light, and I just can't risk that right now." She shrugged, "It's just not worth losing my future career."

"Do you really think everyone will care who you shag?" He demanded incredulously. Her nose wrinkled.

"Not _everyone_, Malfroy, but enough people will," she replied with forced politeness, "Enough that if I chose a career, like, oh, teaching for example, someone might raise a fuss. Especially considering the _location_ of this…event." He rolled his eyes.

"It's called a _shag_, Granger, don't make it sound like a formal function," he retorted sourly, "I think you're being silly, honestly, in fact, I don't even believe you're really worried about any of that rubbish at all." He crossed his arms, shooting her a challenging look. Hermione frowned, arching her eyebrows at him as she fussed over her slightly wrinkled robes and tried to tame her obstinate hair into something slightly more manageable than her just-been-fucked-vigorously look.

"You know what _I _think?" she asked, assessing him, he gestured for her to enlighten him, "I think you just don't like hearing the word _no_, and I also think that you don't give a shit about my reputation, so maybe you should just lay off it." His jaw clenched, a muscle working in a furious tick as he eyed her darkly, he was already fully dressed by now, and looking every inch of the arrogant aristocrat in his impeccable black robes.

"Don't attack me because you're afraid of having a bit of fun, Granger," he informed her haughtily, "You're just too scared to admit you want this, so you're making up obstacles." She gaped at him.

"You really are an arrogant arse," she told him in disbelief. Shaking her head she sighed, "I'll say it once more, since you're so keen on pressing the issue, No, Malfroy I will _not_ have sex with you." She gave him a regal stare, shifting her books in her grip, "Does that make more sense?"

"Do _not_ make the mistake of talking down to me Granger," he warned levelly, eyes flashing, jaw clenched, "I am still quite capable of making your life difficult, should I choose to do so." In that moment, sneering down at her, threatening her, he very much resembled his father, Lucius Malfroy. Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes.

"How original, first you ask, then you insult, and now you threaten, it's all very predictable, you know, maybe you should get some new material," she replied with no small amount of bite in her tone, "I can't believe I'm even debating this with you." She shook her head, frustrated, "It was…nice, today, what happened," she admitted, gritting her teeth at the shy note to her voice, "but it was a onetime thing, it _has_ to be." He cocked his head, suddenly smirking; it was never a good sign.

"Or perhaps I _am_ wrong. You _are_ afraid for your reputation, aren't you?" he mused, "But it's not the biddies gossiping or your future employer you're worried about, is it?" He took a measured step forward, and another, until he was only a foot or two from her, his eyes penetrating through her far too intensely for her peace of mind, "It's the Weasel, right?" At her wary look he nodded to himself, his smirk full of deviousness, "Afraid your beau might not like used goods, Granger?" He watched her gnash her teeth, certain he'd found the source of her reluctance, "I wonder what he'd say," the blonde antagonist pressed, "if he found out just how _much_ you liked it," he invaded her personal space, crowding her as he peered downward, his tone vindictive, "how his precious little Muggleborn let the big bad Malfroy fuck her, or how much she _loved_ her spanking," she gaped, flushing red in anger.

"Sod off Malfroy," she sneered.

"Not likely," he retorted, ensnaring her wrist, his eyes bled anger, "Admit it," he growled, "It's all because of _him_." It wasn't as if he especially needed another reason to hate the penniless Weasel, but it appeared he'd been presented one. That insignificant git was the reason she was so determined to end this? Well, he could always let what they'd done 'slip out', let the world know, she was right, his reputation wouldn't suffer, some might make comments, but no one would dare to outright condemn him for it. Of course, she probably wouldn't let him shag her after that, which was, of course, his ultimate goal.

"It doesn't matter," she insisted with a sniff, wrenching free her wrist, "I've made up my mind." She crossed her arms, eyeing him defiantly. He smirked, slowly running his knuckles down the side of her face in an intimate manner, she pulled away, naturally, but not before leaning into his touch, ever so slightly. A soft, satisfied feeling flared in his gut at her first, seemingly instinctual reaction to his caress. He already had her; she just didn't know it yet.

"We'll see," he promised, eyes glittering. It'd been a while since he'd faced a challenge. It was something he'd relish, a nice distraction to have for his last year in this insufferable school. Hermione took one look at the determined look darkening his pale features and swallowed, hard, that expression just screamed bad news.

"Don't you dare," she warned, not entirely sure what she was prohibiting, but certain it was in her best interest to firmly state her opinion on the matter. The man was obviously up to no good, because, well, Malfroy was _always_ up to no good. He gave her a cocky grin. Her suspicions mounted.

"If you've made up your mind," he pointed out dryly, "It hardly matters what I do, isn't that right?" His falsely innocent look set her on edge.

"I don't trust you," she muttered mulishly. His grin widened perceptibly, humor shining in his gaze.

"That's probably wise of you, I'm not the most trustworthy sort," he replied amiably. She scowled, shifting her books.

"Well," she huffed, "I have to get to class," she eyed the corridor beyond their secluded hall. He nodded, gesturing her onward.

"Nobody's stopping you," he pointed out.

"Right," she eyed him pensively, sighed, and seemed to think better of vocalizing what was on her mind. "Good day, Malfroy." She nodded, pivoting and walking briskly towards the hall to her next class.

"It's Draco," he corrected as she reached the end of the hallway, "Or lover, or pet, if you prefer."He added, mostly because he knew it would irritate her. She turned and shot him a dark look and in turn he smirked. Draco was almost positive he heard her mutter 'incorrigible' under her breath before she slipped around the corner and out of view, but it only amused him further.

After lingering for a bit he sighed, using his wand to get rid of the feather mattress with a short incantation, and inspecting the hall for any other evidence of what had transpired. He spotted a piece of icy blue fabric out of the peripheral of his vision, and his eyes narrowed onto it, grinning in amusement as he realized what it was. One piece of the two scraps of icy blue stain was the shredder remnants of her bra, which he disposed of; the other was her underwear, which he pocketed, easily envisioning her disgusted expression had she caught him doing so. As was the case with most of her irritation, it amused him endlessly. That done, he decided he best get to his room in the dungeons, he had some rearranging to do, and a Muggleborn witch to seduce.

**-*-**

**A/N: **Well, there you have it folks; Draco's a sexy little cad, Hermione needs to look where she's going, and Freya is a vindictive little wench. Personally, I feel female villains in cute packaging are the scariest, but that could be my Jr. High years coming back to haunt me 0.0' LOL. She gets worse (unfortunately) but the rest gets better (promise). So stick around, we've got a long way to go! Oh, and if you find my mind spew interesting, you could always leave me a review, like all shameless attention whores, I would be more than delighted for some insight or compliments, heck, I'll even take criticism. Until Next Time….


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